


Sorry To Be A Bother

by morrezela



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Lack of Communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: Noctis falls ill and doesn't want to bother anyone. Regis misses his son, but also doesn't want to bother him.





	Sorry To Be A Bother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheManicMagician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManicMagician/gifts).



“Oh man, I’m so nervous,” Prompto confessed as he tossed his duffle bag into the trunk of the car. “What if I screw up?”

“It’s a conference. You can’t screw up,” Noctis assured him. “Besides, Iggy will stop you from embarrassing yourself. Right, Iggy?”

“If I have to gag him and tie him to his chair,” Ignis promised. 

Prompto let out a strangled noise. “Don’t let him get me, Noct!”

Noctis laughed even though he didn’t feel like it. All he felt like doing was going back to his bedroom to take a nap. But he couldn’t just ignore all of his friends leaving for a week, especially when it was Prompto’s first time to the dreaded royalty seminar. 

“Don’t goof off too much while we’re gone,” Gladio ordered. “I don’t want to see any ‘Prince Goes Wild’ headlines.”

Noctis crossed his arms and let out a beleaguered sigh. “Yeah. Right. Like that’d ever happen.” 

“We’d best get going if we don’t want to be late for registration,” Ignis tutted. “Enjoy your time off, Noct.” 

“You too.” Noctis waved them goodbye and told himself the twisted feeling in his gut was just loneliness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Noctis woke up, he couldn’t figure out what time it was. His brain felt like it was being squeezed from the inside. He barely made it to his bathroom before his dinner was coming back up. 

Despite what people liked to think about him, he did have some sense. He was sick, and probably shouldn’t just be alone in his apartments. Ignis would probably know what to do. He was half-way to the contacts list on his phone before he remembered why it wasn’t a great idea to call his adviser. 

Ignis would answer, no doubt. But Ignis would have to call somebody else. And that somebody else would probably be his dad. The last thing Noctis wanted was his dad to know he was sick. 

It was hard not to notice the ever-growing burden on his father’s shoulders. It mostly correlated with the distance Noctis felt growing between them. Every year that brought him closer to being an adult seemed to bring new troubles. 

Part of those troubles were his own fault. The older he got, the more he understood what was happening to his father. The draining power of the Crystal that would one day kill him. And then Noctis would be shoved in to his father’s throne room to have the same thing happen to him. 

Noctis really didn’t want to be a part of his father’s decline. He had so much to worry about, that he didn’t need to be worrying about him. He didn’t need to be distracted by something as stupid as being a little sick. It was probably Noctis’s fault anyway. He probably ate something bad without noticing. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Regis flipped through his reports without comprehending most of them. Four times that day he’d reached for his phone. Four times he’d recalled his hand. When Noctis was younger, they used to always spend time together during the yearly retraining seminars. 

Now, Regis couldn’t help the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was unwanted. Noctis seemed to have grown up so quickly. The distance that had grown between them seemed to be uncrossable. And that was assuming he ever had the time. 

Still, it was hard not to feel nostalgia for the days gone by. When Noctis’s tiny footsteps would echo in the hallways. When he had the time to swing him up on his shoulders. When he had the joints to swing him up on his shoulders. 

With all his friends gone for the week, Noctis was probably enjoying his time lazing about in his chambers. Doubtless, he was busy playing video games or napping – free from the ever-watchful eyes of his adviser and shield. He didn’t need his father checking up on him. 

Selfishly, Regis didn’t want to face how little his son needed or wanted him. The idea of sitting through one more sullen luncheon was unbearable. Noctis’s mother would be disappointed in him – just as disappointed as his son was. 

No. He’s let Noctis be. He could at least do that for him even if he couldn’t take back the years that had passed them by. 

~~~~~~~

Noctis felt like he was going to melt. Fire had taken up residence in his throat, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of all the vomiting or just a new symptom to add on top of all the others. His limbs felt like jelly. His clothes stuck to him from sweat. 

He’d try to clean himself up, but he wasn’t sure he could stay upright in the shower long enough to do so. He’d try taking his bath, but he didn’t think he could stay awake in one. The last thing he wanted was to die from drowning in the tub. He didn’t want to actually be the dumbest teenager in the world even if he felt like it. 

Sleep called his name though. That was good. Because being unconscious meant not having scattered thoughts about how awful he felt. But something annoying kept jerking him out of blissful sleep. It vibrated and twanged like a mosquito what been made the size of a housecat. 

It spoke to just how crummy he felt that it took him a while to notice that it was his phone making all that racket. His phone and what looked like twelve missed calls from Ignis. That was weird. Why hadn’t Ignis shown up on his doorstep already to yell at him? 

Absently, Noctis thumbed at the call button on his phone. 

“Noct?” a worried voice came over the speaker not a second later. 

“Hey,” Noctis replied. 

“Are you alright?”

That was a weird question. Wasn’t it obvious he wasn’t alright? Was Ignis drunk? “No.”

There was some muttered cursing on the other end of the line. “I’m calling your father.”

“No!” Noctis repeated with more urgency. He regretted it instantly as his throat let him know it had been swallowing gravel while he wasn’t looking. 

“You’re right,” Ignis agreed. That was nice. That was why Ignis was right. “I should stay on the line with you. Gladio! Call His Majesty!”

Noctis should object to that, but he couldn’t quite remember why. 

~~~~~~~~~

It had been years since Regis could out run his guards. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try. Guilt gnawed at his heart as he stormed through the Citadel’s marble hallways. If he’d only not been such a stubborn fool, he might’ve known something was wrong. He might not have been given a lesson in caring by a group of teenagers. 

“Noctis?” he called out the instant that he got the door to his son’s quarters open. There was no response. 

Under normal circumstance, he would never barge into Noctis’s bedroom. But these were not normal circumstances. The smell of sickness hit his nose before his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. Noctis was pale. His hair matted down against his forehead. The faint sounds of a voice talking reminded Regis that there was a reason he’d hired an all too serious young man to look after his son. 

Cor didn’t even wait for him to finish taking in the scene. He brushed past Regis to scoop Noctis up from his bed, handing the phone off to one of the other guards. Regis felt a stab of envy that even in this, he couldn’t be the father Noctis needed. He had to delegate even that task to another. 

But guilt could be experienced as well in a car as it could in a room. So he merely ordered his guards to take him and his son to the hospital. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The room was way, way too bright when Noctis opened his eyes. Mostly because it was mostly white. Which meant it wasn’t his room. He shifted and his muscles protested. But he didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to vomit, and his head wasn’t pounding. So he decided he’d take what he could get. 

His father snoring in a chair that was too small for even Prompto was not what he expected to see as he rolled to his side. He looked old and tired. Older even than when Noctis had last seen him. Which probably had something to do with the fact that he was in a hospital bed. 

“Fuck,” Noctis groaned. Of all the things he’d wanted, bugging his dad was pretty low on his list. So was waking him up with a swearword. 

“Does Ignis let you speak like that?” Regis asked. Noctis wondered why it was he hadn’t inherited his father’s ability to be awake almost instantly. 

Noctis flushed, and hoped his dad blamed it on him being sick. 

“We need to talk, you and I,” Regis said with gentleness Noctis hadn’t heard in years. And for the first time in years, he let himself listen to his father.


End file.
